


If We Were Monsters

by for_t2



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Confessions, F/F, Hope, Hotels, Knifeplay, Late at Night, Mild Blood, Monsters, Nudity, Post-Season/Series 03, Regret, Soft Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Villanelle is Trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25555246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_t2/pseuds/for_t2
Summary: Even if they were finally together, even Villanelle was finally ready to live, sometimes all she could think about was if the monster she made could be unmade. It it wasn't too late
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Kudos: 51





	If We Were Monsters

When the tip of the knife hit her skin, the closest thing to sleep Eve had gotten in days (months, years, even) shattered.

"Shh."

But even in the dead of night, in the darkness of the cheap motel room off the M4, Villanelle's eyes captured her instantly, paralysing by some deep, primeval instinct.

"You stabbed me." Villanelle dug the knife a little deeper through Eve's sweater, the cold, sharp tip brushing against the skin just underneath her stomach. "Right here."

"Villanelle." Maybe paralysed wasn't the right word. Eve could move, could wrench the knife out of Villanelle's hand and turn it back, plunging it through her fragile body before she even had the chance to breathe Eve's name in fear. And, god, there was a part of her that screamed so desperately to do that. But there was another part (many other parts) that made her choose to stay still. "I'm--"

"Don't apologise." Villanelle's breathing twisted ever so slightly before falling back into a calmer rhythm, matching the slow, sleepy rise and fall of Eve's own chest. "Stabbing people is fun."

"You said you didn't want to do this anymore."

"I don't." Villanelle stopped moving the knife as suddenly as Eve had woken up. Just left it suspended there, resting against the goosebumps on Eve's skin, a rough hole torn through the fabric of her sweater. "But you do."

And Eve let it rest. Maybe it wasn't just paralysis screaming in instinct inside her. Ever since the bridge, ever since they ran, every night she had to spend right next to Villanelle, to the warm body of the killer she had hunted down with her bare hands... "I don't."

"You do." Villanelle gave Eve's stomach a light poke with the knife (a poke that somehow hit deeper than a stab). "Do you know what we say in Russia?"

"Do I want to know?"

Villanelle gave her that stupid smile that said she was going to tell her anyways. "We say that that if you think you fall in love with a monster, you really only fall in love with the monster inside you."

Eve couldn't stop herself from analysing the supposed saying, from turning it over and over in her mind. It's what she was trained to do, after all, even if it broke that thin tension of instinct between them, even if she was pretty sure she'd have heard that saying already (Villanelle, after all, liked to talk). "Really?"

"Well, we do now." Villanelle pulled the knife away, leaving a bare, even colder spot on Eve's skin, like the ghost of a touch. A spot that just as quickly started to drive Eve mad in a way she couldn't (didn't) want to put into words. "And you can say it in Canada too. Or Korea. Or wherever you want us to go." And for a split second, Villanelle really smiled. A small, proud smile that reached her eyes. "I'm very good with words."

And maybe it managed to reach Eve's eyes too. "You should try writing." And the thought that followed somehow managed to be the single funniest thing that had run through Eve's head in forever. "You could write crime novels."

Villanelle's eyes lit up as she bit her lip from going too far. "Not romance novels?"

Despite everything, because of everything, a giggle escaped Eve's mouth. And when one escaped Villanelle in turn, another came out of Eve and then another and another and then they were both laughing furiously on the shitty motel bed, the sound echoing off the thin walls stained with cheap paint, and that just made it even funnier and when they couldn't catch their breaths, when their bodies clutched together in a relentless fit, it made it even funnier and that made it even funnier and even funnier and... 

And Villanelle never let go of the knife.

Never.

And when the laughter died down, when the last few breathless giggles hiccuped out, the first thing she did was tap the knife against Eve's sweater. "Take it off."

One more half-laugh came out before the abrupt, serious change in Villanelle's tone struck her. "What?"

"Take it off." Villanelle gave the sweater another, harder tap. "Hurry."

"Okay?" Eve scrambled to pull the sweater up and over her head, trying not to shiver in the cool nighttime air.

"And your shirt." Villanelle's watched her intently, eyes tracking the flow of Eve's muscles as she pulled off the shirt. "And..." Villanelle tapped her sports bra.

But even if Eve shivered, nothing else left on except her trousers and the blankets beneath them, even if Villanelle never let go of the knife, she took it off anyways, leaving her chest, her heart, bare in front of the assassin. "Why?"

"Because." Villanelle returned the knife to the spot just below Eve's stomach. A spot that seemed more sensitive than it had any right to be. "I need to show you." And slowly, precisely, she traced the knife across Eve's skin. Across her belly button. Across her abs. Her ribs. The soft underside of her breasts. Dragged it across her far too tender nipples and around and around... "To show you that I'm not a monster."

"You're not." Eve jerked up a little too suddenly.

"No!" Only for Villanelle to slam her back down against the bed, hand grasping around Eve's neck, blood trickling out of the fresh new pinprick on Eve's chest, just above her breasts, just underneath her throat. "No." For a second, Villanelle sat there, straddling Eve's waist, angry, dangerous, a killer again with a knife ready to attack. Just for a second before she sighed, tired. "Do you want this?"

And for a second of her own, that small part of Eve screamed at her to say no. "Yes." The fingers around her throat were just right, the small sharp pain in her skin, the wet trickle of warm blood, the pure, delicious fear... "Oh god, yes. Villanelle, please--"

"Don't beg." Villanelle tapped the blunt side of the knife against Eve's forehead with enough force to make it thud. "You're a strong woman. I like that."

Eve was beyond caring. "Sorry." 

"Just..." Villanelle closed her eyes as if she was afraid of seeing her vulnerability reflected in Eve's (or maybe it was Eve who was afraid). "Can I just be nice to you tonight?"

Eve shifted slowly. Propped herself up a little and slipped a hand over Villanelle's cheek. Brought it closer, enough feel the small shaking in her jaw, in her breath, enough to kiss her. To properly kiss her (and, for now, gently). "Yes."

It took Villanelle one more of those long seconds before she was able to open her eyes again. But when she did, for the second time in a night, she smiled. At Eve. "Thank you."

And then she placed the knife just under Eve's chin. Pushed it upwards until she could bring her mouth to Eve's neck, kissing, sucking, moving donwards, over Eve's shoulders, around her breasts, her abs, her stomach... She stayed just above the edge of Eve's trousers just long enough to make Eve groan before popping the buttons off. Before pulling her trousers down. Before kissing all along her thighs, to circle around and...

Oh.

Her mouth.

Her tongue... 

Her.

Her

Villanelle

By the time Eve was able to breath again, was able to feel her muscles relax and let the drowsy contentedness of sleep come flowing back, Villanelle was pulling the blankets over both of them, the knife long discarded on the drawer (but not too far, just in case). 

"Eve Polastri," she whispered, voice so low, so cuddled up in Eve's arms it could've been a mere instinct of imagination at the winds scratching on the window outside. "I don't want you to be a monster anymore."

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing for this fandom (and second attempt at writing something vaguely smutlike), so constructive criticism is more than welcome! (It's such a great show)


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